Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
.i can't believe i just wrote a:dictionary entry ******* into this thread... i wrote one... ****... must have been the October night appeal... you know,,, when you're walking from a supermarket, and a woman ahead of you, i'd say 20m, and she stops, in order for you to pass pass by her, so she feel safer, walking in-front of her, rather than behind her... and it's not a foggy October, more like hazy / more like... vague...but i'm the minority report character... like... the "enlightened" British authorities.... are so far off the continental jurisprudence of: guilty until proven innocent.... what?! what?! i asked you... what?! a man and a woman, complete strangers, walking down a street... the woman will stop, and act, a "grievance" (believe me, that is a misnomer, but like swear words act as conjunctions, so do misnomers, in the double bracket English humor exemplars, nuances... insinuations, i thought that English people understood a civility of an intelligence of humor... apparently... they don't). it's still a misty night in October... a woman is walking up-front before a man, the man is walking behind her, drinking a bottle of beer: shh... he's about to finish it... and then smack the woman over the head with it... but sure as **** she stops... and pretends something, so he walks in-front of her... i just want to listen to some roxette, ma'am... can you please ******* with your paranoia... like... now?!

                    last time i checked...
there were only
ortho-
           para-
            and meta- positioning
attachment groups
(CH3 etc.) to what the benzene
ring allows...

what's the antonym of cis?

wait wait wait...
cis- is an adjective,
borrowed from..... chemistry?!

denoting or relating to a molecular
structure in which two particular atoms
or groups lie on the same side of a given plane
in the molecule, in particular denoting
an isomer in which substituents
at opposite ends of a carbon–carbon
double bond are on the same side of the bond...

right...
what's the antonym of cis-?!

pre-post-scriptum:
**** me... dictionary.com is down...
   the primary adjective definition
is now sexually orientated,
primarily... that website is gone!
gone! gone! gone!
down! the end... cue the credits....

phonetically-wise...
how far is...
    cis- from.... a... cyst?
no far, i gather...

         perhaps the, "added" T...

      let's see the antonym...

   woah... wait a minute, wait a minute...

a prefix occurring in loanwords from
Latin meaning “on the near side of; on
this side of” (cisalpine)

reverse-psychology aside...
why am i supposed to play along
to this psychotic scrabble game?
let me get this straight...

so...
whoever is cis-gender is....
no... wait...
aren't the ******* and queers
the ones who are...
on the near side of heterosexuality?!
i'm as far removed from
donning penetrating ****
as i'd like to be...
and yes, Jordan Peterson is right...

i couldn't **** these
pornographic actor women...
i wouldn't know how to begin...
i wouldn't know how to **** them...
going to a Bulgarian *******
i've learned that...
spanking them on the *** was
off limits...
    no... i couldn't and wouldn't
ever **** these women in
***** movies...
   because?
    well... funny thing about prostitutes...
you can't exactly be accused of
****...
not being payment, yes...
****?
    not trimming your ***** hair,
subsequently "forgetting" to take
your genital parts along,
and kissing for an hour            =
****?                good luck.

but i can't believe i'm buying into
this *******...
which happens,
when mad people start talking and
making counter-etymological claims...
to the pressing immediate
usage of a word, or, more importantly,
the focus on the abuse of a prefix...

i'm a simple man...
i could understand the clockwork
of the benzene ring,
with the positioning

         ortho-, para-, meta-....
i could understand that...

                 but this, current pentagram...
of ortho- para-, meta-,
   cis- & trans-                  ?
i call that a hyper-inflation of
a circle into a globe...
                     this...
                          toying with Latin prefixes
only transverses as far as
it still appears,
hardly associated with the ridiculous.
Klaus May 2013
My timbre-
Like a slightly chewed cassette
Burrows in your tongue-tied loanwords,
& bunter bound beam.

Bounce, & twirl, & tango
Don't stop
For each tantalizing accent from your
Sensually slurred syntax
Tenders mein Herz evermore.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2020
at any point in history:
a suicide could come dressed in
a geisha - a madame butterfly:
such that the personal anguish
was so great that...
   life was a languishing veneer...

not that now a toothache is
anything but irksome -
for such a small thing of concerns...
when it could be...
a pain in my back...
    
       here's to a lost of "missing" libido...
enough people
or the least amount of people
no wonder, no lust...
cutting back corners...
    the banality of work the menu
of the menial...

      after all... it wasn't so bad to begin
with... to secure a bowing out...
come the rot and snooze...
  still working magic on a pixel page...
it's not like
there was any fun with paper
in schoolroom aeroplanes or
origami...

                 that the 20th century had
all the worst... and all the best...
it's desirably believable that
my zenith of reality can be at best
a toothache...
          
and how painkillers are not:
what i rather prescribe myself...
a toothpick upon which a nugget of
cotton is dipped into
whiskey and then smeared in
some powdered cloves...
that of course... before the clove oil
arrives...

before the pristine genetic programme...
the rest of us:
to the cauldron of moloch's embracing
womb - not to the ***** of abraham... "we"...
it would have been better
to be aborted...

by snails' pace: two steps forward
three steps back...
thankfully this world is anything
that can overpower my ultimate
will:
           the world around me
is not worth living in -
yet i'm still here for at least one
spectacular!
i will not allow queen elizabeth II
to outlive me...

it can't be anything but odd but...
seeing new money minted
with a new figurehead...
that would be... something...

popes come and go...
i started to become critical of my beard
today: came the scissors
and two mirrors...
and subsequently a blocked plumber's
job... spectacular...
no more "Engels"...
just a more refined version
of a ruffian...

       for anyone who can believe in
self-
        (automaton prefix complex)...
-love...
              how much can this world
bribe me with libido...
or... well... there's not even that...

when will the concentration
camps reopen?
                     coolly - sly - slumbering -
but without the necessary
consumer flock: masses...
         i too could hope for a shirt
that has a label that reads:
stitched in ireland...

                something genius is waiting...
so genius that nothing
good or evil can be given clarity
with a constriction
with: a red, amber or green
of a traffic codex coming up
to a junction...

               'but wouldn't it just happen to
arrive at a best so...'
for a work of power
that leaves no derepency of will:
even beside that once nuanced
starter-pack...

   to reach this global glut of expansion:
introducing a new world
where there's no immediately reached
for "alternative"...

whispers of talking about
schwobb: or rather... herr klaus schwab...
pierdolony SZWAB...
     shvab... a new era post saxon...
cost-efficiency (has to be) nuanced....
by anything other that: nuance per se...

even i know the first base adventure
of technology -
what was 1998... and... the elders
were happily brimming with sleep...
i remember this one vaccine...
and we were in on it...
the scare surrounding meningitis
among the population of the youth

i was exposed to chickenpox...
there was no necessary vaccination:
i was assured the antibodies...
blah blah...

it's not impossible to jump to conclusions...
it's just: the grass is green
on this side of... this already ashen
world of former groceries...
beside the world of lust
and broken limbs...
how the plumbers had limbs...
when there was a need for...
a butcher shop...

but don't you need... consumers?!
don't you need a lullaby worth load
of people?
     coming to the streches of
imagination:
  i want to pretend to schmile...
then i don't want to...
but i do...
but i don't...
  
                              same old german
thirst purpose and a man
strapped to a chicken-shack of borrow...
i might ever want to die
from something as *******
as a toothache...

           and... for that reason:
hell is mesmerising: it's actually glistening
with... rubies and auburn shades....
there are some acorns.
to "investigate"...
there's the baltic gem...
like... stone esque caramel...

               i heave this imperfection
of language because:
i want no chance
for me to become a.i. replica...
b'aah b'aah gwammar
  some velsh, perhaps cornish...
always disguised with
probing punctuation...

                   truly, though...
a toothache is the last resort of authenticity...
a cat taking to snuggling against
your thigh when watching t.v.:
wishing...
there was a dozen of us...
and we were hunting mammoths
in estonia...
and the fire comforted us...
we fell asleep by talking
and throwing banter about...
words like pancakes...
and we pretended a night
was zenith and the day nadir...

         but... perhaps i alone "forgot"
to dream?
perhaps i was the last man
to have "forgotten" to dream...
each night i drink a whiskey
and hope to rekindle my affair
with an architectural projects
that's all jokes and bubblegum
spaghetti tangling of towers...

                 dreams have become devoid
of: their original deviances
from grammar and instruction...
i dream a vacant...
burning blackness:
with nibbles of mirror and smoke
being thrown out
to encompass a replica
of insurgence - like some great borrowing...

in a formerly geocentric world...
that became the heliocentric world...
that is now a gynocentric...
my towers my supposed *******
protests against mountains...
they are no good...
down in the trough in the burrows
and the trenches...

this is all i have demanded...
and it's enough to...
allow a shyness of space...
become consecrated with
the zeal of time...
       i have to keep my sorrows
on a leash...
with only one question
having to bother me...
can i allow myself to die...
having lived this most
mediocre of lives
and pretend... that is could have been...
something... spectacular;

vainglory:
fortunes of whim.

— The End —